


Come if You Want It

by mochisquish



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Dominance, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochisquish/pseuds/mochisquish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris challenges Piers' affections, and Piers challenges him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come if You Want It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a drabble prompt - _Fight for dominance with an almost-hidden undertone of actual affection._

“ _I see how you look at me_.”

Piers breathes in the scent of him, thick and sweet, blood and sweat.  Chris’ body is a wall, protective yet trapping, and Piers’ stomach tightens as heat rushes down, down, down.

A gloved hand grabs the kid’s jaw – “ _If you want it, then let’s go_.”  The grip is tight and possessive; enough to shock Piers into pushing back.  He yanks Chris’ thumb in the opposite direction until he’s forced to release or suffer a break.  Both palms strike at his chest, only to hit a wall of muscle.  It barely pushes Chris back a step, and Piers sees revenge coming before he feels it.

Chris throws weight forward with a charge, knocking breath from the subordinate and pinning him to a wall.  Fingers pad over Piers’ cheek with a harsh rub of dirt and calluses.  Lips naturally part, but Piers stops before he opens too wide; looks too needy.

“You’re the one who wants to fuck me, Captain.”  It’s a biting whisper that makes Chris’ heart burn.  He puffs out a harsh breath, wraps fingers round that pretty neck, thumb feeling over the boy’s Adam’s apple.  Piers is held steady as Chris leans forward to stare him down while lips hover above his own.

An unexpected twist of the head causes Piers to squirm, objecting at first to the change of plan.  Hot kisses travel over his face, wild and random and hungry.  Mouth falls open again and Chris gets a look of those tight lips; that wet hole.  He shoves inside, tongue thick and intrusive as he violates the other’s mouth.

The kid recovers quickly, forever stubborn, fighting just to see if he’ll win.  He snatches at the back of Chris’ head and tugs, eliciting an angry growl from the older man.  Their lips part momentarily, but Chris is still on him, grunting through the pain bleeding over his scalp.  Piers’ mouth twists against his with a quiet huff of satisfaction.

_He presents Chris with challenges; always pushes, pushes, pushes._

Piers is held at bay with a hold on his hip.  It’s a pinch and then a bruise, and Piers cries out, hand falling from Chris’ head to grab at his shoulder for stability.

Chris doesn’t want to break him, just bend him a little.  They’re too alike, and Chris can’t stand seeing who he was and what he’s become.   He’s harsh with Piers because the boy needs discipline; needs to realize he’s not invincible.  He needs to be smarter than Chris ever was.

Soon pants are tight and movements erratic.  Chris rubs his arousal over the boy’s cock, lets him feel how large and thick.  His show isn’t weakness, but warning.

Teeth grit, but Piers bites back any sound that will betray him.  He jerks against the older man’s grasp, stills when fingers twist under the waist of his pants and drag downwards, following the line of his hardening arousal.

Piers covers Chris’ wrists in a last attempt at resistance, but he’s shaking, eyes transfixed – might lose it when the captain first catches sight of his unclothed cock.

He’s a kid who knows nothing about control; panting and whimpering, rubbing the bulge in his pants against the captain’s palm.  He’s submitting, losing his mind.  He’s under Chris, like it should be.

Chris tugs underwear down, just enough to expose the full, pink cockhead.  Piers is dripping, arousal already sticky and wet.  He stands with fists balled and cheeks flushed as another stream of precum spills out.  The boy’s seen death – caused it.  In Chris’ hands now, he looks young and innocent.  He’s been stripped of guns and bullets and blood; stripped of worry and fear.  Chris stripped him down, left him weak so he could play protector.  Chris is in control now, and Piers doesn’t have to fight.  He just has to live.

The captain runs lips against his soldier’s skin.  Words are hot and airy, rushing directly to what’s left of Piers’ brain.

 “You’re going to come for me – in your pants, all over yourself.”  He licks the boy’s ear, making him thrust forward into the heat of his hand.  “You’re going to be quiet when I touch you; you’re going to be good.”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath and Piers says nothing.  He’s played keeper to the man who should be protecting him.  _He wants to be led._

A hand slips into his pants, tugs fabric tightly against his legs as it cups his arousal, and Piers thinks he’s going to break.


End file.
